Alternate methods
by Deamon's Eyes
Summary: You are Tsunayoshi Sawada. You are 16 years old. You are surrounded by zombies. You are going to die. You will not go down without a fight.


The costume party is in a giant communal hall; dance classes, parties, learning tae kwon do, that's what it's usually used for. Off white brick walls and newly waxed wooden floor is what greeted you as you slipped through the green doors, successfully avoiding the professional photographer. This night it was booked out for a birthday party. They were not joking when they said the whole grade and then some were here, that's the only reason you were invited. Pirates, nobles, peasants, even a few kings -all western and all old. Corridors only lead to bathrooms and then the kitchen, but that door is locked because the teens that hang around can't be trusted to not kill themselves.

There are about 200 or so friends and friends of friends, you can't tell which is which because most are dressed as pirates and there's barely any deviation. Not you though, because your friend takes pride in cosplay, you didn't even get a chance to run. You have long black boots with white stockings tucked into them. An equally white long sleeved tunic hung to your thighs with a black belt around your hips that carried daggers, and a pouch that held your phone and wallet. A dark green cloak wrapped your shoulders. It is simple and mainly black and white, for this you are thankful because you did not want a repeat of the 'pink massacre'.

Unfortunately -or fortunately, because you aren't normally a part of this scene so you were just standing at the side awkwardly- the doors burst open. Like really burst open, smashing against the wall and that horrible sound of metal handles scraping against brick turns many heads. The base-heavy, thumping music cuts off and the drunk host snaps an insult into the microphone as a trickle of people fall through.

Everyone is confused and hesitant at the way they swayed and the torn, bloody clothes -this wasn't a zombie costume party after all- but the first throws themselves at the nearest person and rips out their jugular with their teeth, and people react. Screams start up and more people are felled under the attacks. You're far enough away from the doors that when a person comes charging at you, you're able to slide out your very real sword and take a swing.

The first cuts through the shoulder but doesn't seem to do any damage. You spin and maneuver around, placing your back to the doors and the zombie in front. You know that cornering yourself is bad but you would rather not get sneak attacked by insane cannibals. You heft your sword and as it is heavy, the next blow cuts straight through the mad man in the business suit. It feels like cutting through refrigerated butter, slow going but a lot quicker than you thought cutting a person's head off would be.

You turn to the doors and barely manage to stab one that rushes you. It goes through their neck and they drop to the ground. You are in a dream state like before, whenever death is close at hand -or you think it is- and you call it your dying will mode. Everything is seen through a tinted window and your mind and body belong to someone else, someone much better than you. You hope it lasts as you really don't want to face reality.

You catch glimpses of people fighting the zombies. They're all in their various costumes and so most have swords as it was an inside dare to bring proper, sharpened, weapons. Yours is a large straight sword, as opposed to the others scimitars and katanas. It is big and you had to attach a belt that loops over your right shoulder and under your left arm to place it there, because it can't go on your hip or you'd trip over it.

* * *

The next half hour is fighting. People run, people scream, people die. You try to protect them but you're having trouble yourself. You've shed your cloak and the white you wear is stained a red-brown. Your sword works hard as you swing almost consistently at the strangers that you've decided are zombies. You decide this because most have huge wounds in them and yet still move until you slice them in half. Literally. You also agree with the zombie idea because you might just throw up if it was actually people you're cutting through. You're so glad your mum is on holiday with your dad.

You don't have good aim and the sword is too heavy for quick movements. Instead, you plant your feet and throw your whole body into the cut, twisting your torso sharply, your lower half following dutifully and when you complete a full spin the zombie will be lying dead on the ground, its upper half of its chest separated from the rest. That's another thing, their bones don't seem to work properly. They cut as easily as the flesh. Isn't that a strange thought?

You meet a group as you fight. A guy dressed in noble clothes splattered with blood not his own, with pitch black hair and what looks like spiked metal sticks. He looked the part of slayer as he tore through bodies with a wicked smirk. Another in a solider-turned-pirate get up with an unnecessary open shirt, strangely styled dark purple hair like the night sky -if it was purple instead of black, really you need better metaphors- stabbing away casually with a trident.

The next was a silver haired prisoner, slashed clothes, smudged mascara and face paints to look as if he had been in a fight completed his dirty scoundrel look. This one used cigarettes, coated with something so when he lit them there was time to flick it at zombies before it blew up, spreading fire.

Another was a captain, in red and white colors and black hair with curled sideburns, shooting away with an old gold leafed gun as if the only reason he was doing it was because he was bored and this was his amusement. You don't know how you got that out of a boy firing a gun but with all the rumors about him you wouldn't be surprised if your inferences were true.

All of them could fight, and fight well. You made sure you remembered this fact.

As soon as the slaughter -because that's what it was, humans being the victims- calms down enough, people can make it to the doors and run around the back to storage. Someone found a padlock to hold the gates closed and everyone pitches in to pile things up against it. There are three other entrances but they are connected to small corridors. Because all of the people here stay in the main area, the zombies haven't found the other doors, and through them, people from outside sneak in to hide as well.

* * *

It's been a day and a small pro-life group found undead who don't attack straight away. They were clinging on to something. You don't know what because you don't know psychology and really you don't want to understand. Zombies, on your side supposedly. What a joke. They just didn't instantly try to eat humans, which was all, they didn't help kill the others or anything. You think the surviving people should kill them, seeing as they couldn't control their hunger either sometimes. But the humans that took them in think there is hope. Fuck hope, you have a sword.

You wander from group to group. There were more people than when you first came, around 70 now. As you wander you find people dragged to nooks and crannies, all dead from various wounds. You go back to the main hall where clusters of people sit in silence. You rest down by the wall and almost fall asleep. Your head falls to the side and you jerk awake, when you glance up a zombie is in your face. You pause, sword at the ready, last time you stabbed one you almost got lynched when the humans freaked. This one tried to eat you and you stab him anyway. This is why you don't agree with keeping the semi-sentient beings as pets. People are only watching.

* * *

You wake up again not knowing when you fell asleep. You get up to stretch your legs and as you pass by the front doors again you notice the zombies have climbed on each other using the crossbars in the gate. The wall of decaying bodies is terrifying, what's more is their almost through. You check the other entrances and they are all barricaded. The zombies must have gotten to them. You visit the first group with the vicious noble.

Most of them are asleep in a large storage closet, the captain and his pet zombie, a girl with blue hair and a clover tattoo, are up and watching. There is also a zombie with purple hair and a large hole were her stomach should be, lying next to the equally purple male. You need new identifiers for the duo instead of just purple but it's just so shockingly _purple._ You join them for a while, waiting for the rest to wake up, and then you discus your plan. You are now part of a _they_, a group. You hope you can keep up because you have no fantasies that the group wouldn't leave you behind if you were too much trouble.

* * *

The hall is on the outskirts of the city. The plan is simple, find a ladder and get out via sky light, heading towards the country where logically there should be less people (less people = less zombies). They manage with more difficulty than they would have liked but the roof was very high so they had to stack boxes under the ladder. Then they just ran, not stopping to fight. They dodge zombies and abandoned cars, leaping over dead and dying bodies. The blue haired zombie (Yuni or some such) is carried on the captains back because she couldn't keep up.

The purple haired duo split off some time ago to hunt down a deadpan green haired zombie that was insulting them. The Nobel refuses to leave a school that they passed a while back. The dirty prisoner with silver hair is now filching a bag of first aid from a man's stiff fingers. It takes longer than expected and a crowd gathers. He curses rigor mortis as a finger snaps off and barely misses hitting him in the face. You snicker at his disgusted annoyed expression. Dying will mode still hasn't worn off or your laughter would be hysterical. They are forced to climb, using each other as stepping stones and rope, because their way is blocked by zombies on two sides and the path forwards has objects built up with no gaps.

They get to the roof and look in wonder. A whole intersection is blocked off. All four sides have things stacked in perfected Tetris God formation, all holes filled and everything strong as steel. Its trash heap heaven. They rest there to catch their breath at first, then they stay because the zombies cannot climb such a steep incline.

* * *

Next morning they are awoken by helicopters and find others from the storage saw the escape and have joined. A perpetually smiling soldier that gets on the prisoners nerves, a puffy haired younger kid with a simple eye patch and normal clothes, and an energetic monster (Frankenstein to be precise, probably didn't get the memo about dress code) with his beautiful duchess sister. An army helicopter descends on top of the building roof and your original group is on the first take off. They get there and catch a bus to another blocked off city. Cars rove and people walk the streets casually. You don't like how oblivious they look and dying will mode agrees with a sneer.

* * *

You are alone now, the rest have split up. You found the others that were on the roof and can still see them around but their personalities clash and you decide you would rather be at peace for however long you can get. You get put in lines and someone walks by, judging you for something or another. The little zombie girl is there, so is a blond zombie that stares at you in a uniform, pristine blue of a police man now tainted to a grey, just like his flesh. She says it's her guardian, Gamma. You don't care, you just want him out of your face.

You get assigned a room, you clean up and change into prepared uniforms and go to a cafeteria to eat as per instructions. You can eat, you're okay with it even though you can recall the guts spilling out all too easily. You have done much worse than chop people into bits after all, due to the whole dad-is-in-the-mafia business.

You take your sword and when you get down you see the others have taken theirs. Smart guys. Though they're still hopeless for taking in an undead. That what they're called now. People on 'our' side. Why is everyone so stupid? On the way down here you heard a few girls planning for a party. The army base isn't even separate from the civilian area. It seems like most of the soldiers aren't even trained in basic evacuation, nor do they carry weapons. No wonder you're still in your dying will mode, you assume that it will last until you get out of this place which is actually further in to the urban area. You look down at your new uniform and sigh. Why is everyone so stupid?

* * *

**A/N-**

Hope you like second person or that must have pissed you off.


End file.
